Diablo's eyes clouded with conflict as he watched you play among the wildflowers, his heart constricting painfully in his chest.

He was the raven familiar of Maleficent, a dark and venegeful witch who had cursed you to fall into an eternal sleep on your sixteenth birthday. His orders were simple: to ensure that those three idiot fairies didn't accidentally kill you before his mistress fulfilled her revenge.

But he never expected to get attached, that cold heart of his melting over the years as it revealed an affectionate side he didn't even know he had. Afterall, he wasn't supposed to grow fond of the little mortal who curiously tugged on his dark hair and wings. Wasn't supposed to adore the way you napped under his wing. You weren't supposed to trust him.

He wouldn't let you suffer, even if it meant betraying his mistress. Even if she ripped out his traitorous heart, he would never yield.